Reborn From Seafoam
by Cassie's Bedlam
Summary: A dead child, a wandering soul, all weaved by Fate's hands so their child of Prophecy does not stand alone. Memories sealed by a Godly mother, how will she coped in this new life of hers? Will she triumph without her foreknowledge or will she fail? This could be her most dangerous life yet, for the Gods are watching and their wrath is deadly. Fourth in my SI series.
1. Chapter 1

Cleo Agate was just a little girl of six, a little girl with long chocolatey brown hair and bright hazel eyes that changed colours in different lights or depending on her mood, a lopsided smile that showed a dimple in her right cheek and clear creamy skin.

Her father, Kit Agate, loved her dearly and proclaimed she was his favourite muse as he took photographs of her or painted her in almost fairy-tale scenes—some of which she loved so much that he kept them instead of selling them off, and put them up on wall with her own paintings that showed she wasn't the artist her father was, but he still displayed them proudly.

Cleo was the type of little girl that, despite having her thick hair done up in different pretty braids, preferred running around and playing almost rough than playing with dolls and such as most girls did though she had her own mountain of soft-toys scattered in her room.

She wanted to a get a dog, she didn't have one set favourite colour but she didn't like bright pink or pink much at all after she ate some pink dyed food that made her sick later that night.

And she was dying.

Her daughter was dying and she was bound by stupid ancient laws that stopped her from reaching out and taking all the pain away, stopped her from saving her daughter, and Aphrodite wanted to rage, she wanted to scream at Zeus, at the Fates, but she didn't.

No, Aphrodite simply watched the doctors attempt to save her daughter from where she was hidden from mortal sight in the corner.

She could hear Kit's slurred and panicked questions about their daughter from another room, and her heart clenched at the heart-break he was going to suffer when they finally told them that their daughter, their baby girl, was dead because of a stupid mortal drunk driver!

If he survived his own injuries, then Aphrodite wouldn't be kind to him. Not after he had killed her little girl!

Her little body was shaking from shock and blood loss as the doctors and nurses attempted to assess her head wound which was matting her hair to her head, straighten one of her legs and deal with the shards of glass in her broken arm.

The heart rate was too high, screaming the final beats of her daughter's heart, and Aphrodite couldn't help but reach out and pause the scene because her daughter wouldn't die surrounded by strangers, not while one of her parents could be with her in her final moments.

So the Goddess of Love slid between the bodies and towards her tiny daughter, she tenderly stroked an already cool cheek and shed a tear when Cleo gave her final shuddering breath before she went lax on the bed.

Hades would take care of her, Aphrodite knew, as he had a soft spot for children—or at least children that weren't his brothers—and leaned down to press a kiss on her dead daughter's forehead.

She was about to leave, to return time, when the impossible happened.

A soul, a lost wandering and hurt soul, was drawn into the shell that had once been her daughter and new breath was given as the tiny body jerked as soul met body and merged.

It was the sight of her eyes moving rapidly under her eyelids that snapped Aphrodite out of her shock and she pressed a lightly glowing hand to her daughter's head.

"You've been through so much," she whispered with sympathy as she gathered each memory of her daughter's new soul's long life and sealed them away for now. "You need to heal, my dear. Too much pain and rage in your soul though Ares would approve, there is not enough love for a daughter of mine."

She hummed as she brushed her glowing fingers against still cool but warming cheeks.

"Kit still needs you," she told her daughter, because this soul had become her daughter the moment it joined with her daughter's body. "I can't have you pushing him away, now can I? You've saved him from heart-break, you know? And he'll save you from all that pain and rage though I'll help damp some of the emotion effects—poor dear, you've been through far too much for such a young age."

The soul was barely a few centuries old after all.

Aphrodite also anchored the divine gifts she gave her children to the soul, making them a part of her forever. No matter when or where this soul would go next, she would always be her daughter—Aphrodite had made sure of that.

This was her daughter, for now and forever.

* * *

Cleo Agate was six years old, she had cropped chocolatey brown hair and hazel eyes that changed in different lights or depending on her moon. Her smile was lopsided and showed off a dimple in her right cheek, her once clear creamy skin would have several scars from the car accident that briefly took her life and took her some of memories.

Her father still loved her deeply and Kit would weep over his daughter's sleeping form when he was finally released by his own doctors and allowed to see her all bandaged with her arm in a cast and her leg with pins in it to keep it straight.

And most importantly, she was alive and was going to remain amongst the living for a long time if her mother had any say in it.

* * *

She woke slowly, heavily, and couldn't open her eyes.

Then she realised with a slowly building panic that she can't move, her limbs, her whole body, felt heavy like they were made of stone.

 _They've drugged me_ , a part of her whispered in the back of her mind, building on the panic she already felt, and sounding furious to hide the fear.

There was a beeping beside her head, a beeping that sped up with each panicked moment, as her lungs felt heavy and she couldn't take in air, and she couldn't move because they've drugged her and, _oh gods not again_ , **what happened to me?** _Not again, please not again_. **Where am I?** _Please, please, not again._ _ **Help!**_

A large hand cupped her face, fingers tickling against her skin as they went through short locks, and part of her panic eased from the familiar— _strange_ —hand before a calloused thumb brushed across her cheekbones— _callouses not made by a weapon, but tools of a different art_.

"Hush Cleo, it's alright, you're alright, Daddy's here," a warm familiar— _not familiar, I don't know him!_ —voice calms her further.

Daddy? She questions in her mind.

 _My father is dead, has been for decades._ **No he's not, he's here, right beside me**. _He died from cancer, I saw him days before he died!_ **Daddy would never leave me.** _I don't have a father!_ **Yes, I do**.

She wanted to groan, but the sound was trapped in her throat, because her mind was fighting against itself and it hurt and she just wanted her **Daddy!**

It was like she flipped a switch as slowly, too slowly, memories came back to her;

A deep laugh as she giggled helplessly while long clever fingers tickled her and she shrieked with laughter.

Staying painfully still as dark hazel-green eyes glanced up from a canvas, paint brush in hand and a warm smile for his little muse.

Sitting in a comfortable lap as those clever hands carefully held the stencil against the soft lilac wall as she carefully—messily—painted in the unicorn stencil with her silver paint.

Of soft carpet under clumsy feet as she ran breathlessly from him, long arms held out ready to catch her.

Warm arms, strong and protective, cradled her gently to a broad chest as a deep voice hummed lightly as they swayed together to music he had played and recorded for her.

 _ **Daddy**_ , she recognised, two parts of her in harmony.

"Can you open your eyes, Cleo?" he asked softly, his voice sounding wrong like he was in pain, and she wanted to take away that pain.

Carefully, slowly, she opened her eyes to the dim light of a hospital room and her eyes focused on the reassuring face above her.

His dark hair was messy and pointed up funnily like when he ran his fingers through it too many times, his bread was shaggy and he looked tired. One of his eyes—warm, loving—was swollen shut and there were little cuts all over his face, but he still smiled at her—his special smile that was just for her—and all traces of panic was gone, leaving her aware of her aching body.

"Hurts," she whimpered and coughed at the dryness of her throat, and Daddy's face crumbled slightly.

"I know love, but everything's going to be alright, I promise," he smiled again, his smile almost fragile as he carefully brought a glass of water with a straw to her mouth.

And Cleo— _not my name_ , **yes, it is** , _now it is_ —gratefully drinks and ignores the voice in the back of her mind that calls her father a liar.

* * *

Kit Agate had been a simple young artist—a portrait artist mostly, one of many in New York and one of thousands in the world—when he caught the attention of the Goddess Aphrodite at one of the smaller art shows that he had managed to get work into.

She had been stunning, always shifting hazel eyes, and long pale gold hair. She had been enthralling, drawing him in and making him almost drown in her embrace, her love.

He had drawn and painted many things in honour of her during their time together, all to see her pleased smile and that twinkle in her colourful eyes.

It had been because of her that he had gone from a struggling artist into a successful one, one with work in major galleries after a few words to the right people—she had made them stop and give him a chance and he had proved himself worth it—and requests for more.

It was because of her that he went from a tiny apartment to a decent sized and priced penthouse.

He had come from the simple Brit artist that decided to try and make it big across the pound from home and turned into an almost famed artist with his own fans.

She had inspired him, encouraged him, and he had loved her for that though he knew their relationship would be short.

She was a Goddess after all and Kit had known almost from the first moment he saw her that she wasn't a simple mortal. She had smiled and called him 'Clear-Sighted' when he admitted that to her as he saw how the world as it really was, but hadn't mentioned it again until a week before she left him.

She had taken him and showed him the monsters, had explained how dangerous the world really was and had told him all about Demigods, of Camp Half-Blood, and the harsh and often tragic life of a hero. She told him how those heroes, those Demigods, risked their lives to defeat monsters, to save mortals, and how the Fates were rarely kind to them.

She told him a Demigod could never run from their fate, that monsters would always find them in the end, and how Camp Half-Blood was the only safe haven for them where they could learn to fight and protect themselves, where they could be around their own kind, where they could learn and grow at the Camp, where they could live full-time or just for the summers.

He hadn't known why until he opened the door to his apartment to find a golden cradle with a pink swaddled baby sleeping securely within merely a week after she had left him after almost a year together.

Even after all she had done for him, Kit would always say the greatest thing she had given him had been their daughter, their Cleo.

And he had almost lost her.

Not to a monster that he had almost expected to attack every time he turned his back, but because of another mortal, because of a drunk.

Kit knew he would never forget the sight of his Cleo lying too still in bed, one arm in a purple case and one leg suspended after numerous pins were inserted to fix the almost shattered bones. Of her chocolatey brown locks cropped short, stitches starting from her right temple and well into her hair covered by white bandages with her other scraps, cuts and bruises likewise treated.

He had been foolish, he realised as the Doctor explained that Cleo may have some memory-loss or confusion—something he realised was true when it took too long for Cleo to recognise him, to know who he was and react.

He had only thought his daughter would be in danger because of monsters when really she was vulnerable to both mortals and monsters—something that Aphrodite had once warned him and he forgot.

It was not something he would forget about again, that he swore to both Aphrodite and Cleo.

Elsewhere, Aphrodite smiled as she felt the oath Kit Agate swore to both her and their daughter settle into an iron-clad promise that he would keep.

* * *

Thanatos almost frowned as he stared at the living and breathing child that was currently curled in her father's arms.

Aphrodite's touch was heavy on this child, it curled around the soul in a possessive way though the soul didn't belong with that body.

Cleo Agate had died three weeks ago and had already been ferried by his brother, Charon, and yet her body still lived because another soul had merged mere moments after Cleo Agate's death.

He closed his eyes and reached out for the wayward soul, he slipped passed Aphrodite's essence that twined around the soul, and reached for the memories of this soul, memories only kept away from the body by Aphrodite's magic, memories;

Of mismatched eyes, brown and blue, staring up at the mirror as the doctor cut and cut—he wouldn't stop cutting, no matter if she begged or cried or screamed, not that she ever begged, he would never have the satisfaction of making her break down and beg for him to stop because she would be strong, she wouldn't break!

Of sharp sting of breaking skin under shiny blades, needles injected deep into veins, poison like fire or ice following paths to her heart, to her brain, and she screams, screams and screams until her throat tears and she coughing, choking on her own blood and still trying to scream because it burns, it burns and she's going to die and oh god, someone help her!

Of harsh hands curled into caramel hair, blue eyes wide as she's pushed face-first into the small tub of water, and she thrashed, screaming soundless as water rushed down her throat and began to fill her lungs, hands clawing, scratching, nails breaking, bloody and broken.

Of blue eyes staring down at her in overwhelming guilty relief as she chokes and coughs, pained but alive, and he clings to her because she's all he has left in this world and she hugs back just as hard because he's all she has ever had in this world.

Of dark eyes cold with anger, tanned hands easily holding bloodstained hands, of feet firm despite the mud made from blood and dirt.

Of fire and steel, of rage and pain, of fight because flight had been beaten out of her, of vengeance, of war and politics, of love and desire, of harsh edges pulled back together with bloody fingers, of happiness and despair, of sacrifice, of fear, of loyalty, of torture and mercy, of promises sworn and kept, of lies and truth, of friendship and hatred.

It was Aphrodite's hand on his shoulder that broke the connection he had formed, it was heavy with the weight of her rage and disapproval.

Her eyes are dark, almost as dark as his Liege-Lord Hades, and there was something hostile in the sharp angles of her face as she stared at him with a frown twisting dark—blood—red lips.

"Thanatos," her voice though as musical as ever was also curt as she greeted him.

"Aphrodite," he greeted back evenly, calmly even.

There was a short impasse as both Gods stared at each other, as the God of Death and Son of Nyx stared with bright golden eyes into the dark eyes of the Goddess of Love and Grandniece of Nyx.

"There has been no laws broken," Aphrodite declared powerfully and Thanatos was forced to agree with a slight nod of his head.

Aphrodite hadn't attempted to stop her mortal daughter's death nor had she purposely sought out a replacement soul, it had just happened and Aphrodite had even bound the soul's memories—though perhaps not as tightly as she should—so Thanatos could not really fault her.

However,

"She doesn't belong here," he told her and her expression tightened.

"Check her connection with her body, my daughter belongs here," there was almost a hiss to her words.

"She's not your daughter," he absently stated as he did what the Goddess said and was surprised by the depth of the connection—it was as if the soul had been born with this body as its shield.

"She's mine, my daughter," there was a dark tone of possessiveness that was common amongst Divine parents when it dealt with their mortal child. "I have claimed her as mine, I have made her mine, she will always be mine."

Ahh, that explained why Aphrodite's essence had been entwined so deeply into this soul. No matter where this soul was reborn, Aphrodite had made the soul hers, her daughter forever.

If she was ever pulled into this universe again or a version of it, she would be Aphrodite's even if she merged with another's demigod daughter. That would be interesting to see, two divines fighting over one daughter whose soul would scream Aphrodite while her blood would scream a different name.

"Curious," he muttered as he turned his gaze back to the young girl with a soul too old for her and yet the body and soul clung to each other, connected deeply like the soul belonged with this body.

He could almost feel the hands of his sisters' at work here and he wondered what his sisters' had spun that made them bring this soul here. What had they seen and spun that made them act in this manner? He couldn't help but wonder but knew his sisters' wouldn't tell him.

There was only one way to satisfy his curiosity and that was keeping an eye on the child.

He could still feel Aphrodite's gaze fixed on him, dark and protective, and met her gaze.

"I will not reap her," he told her and Aphrodite waited and wasn't disappointed when Thanatos continued. "But I will be keeping an eye on her."

He held out a hand and Aphrodite watched as two bronze loops formed with a familiar and unmistakeable black feather hung from each loop in the palm on his hand before he closed his fist and Aphrodite knew without a doubt that those earrings would be resting on her daughter's bedside table.

Thanatos had taken an interest into her daughter, her Cleo, and had marked her as one that interested him, perhaps even claimed her as his Champion or just a Disciple.

A prickle of fear danced along her spine as her gaze darted to the reassuring sight of her living daughter and her loving father.

Thanatos had never been one to take an interest in demigods, and yet her daughter—not the daughter she had first birthed and gave into Kit's care, but still her daughter and his—had done it without meaning.

Part of her wanted to crush those earrings before her daughter could touch them, before she could wear them and seal her fate, before she belonged to someone else other than just Aphrodite.

But she couldn't, for all the power that she had, the power to bring both mortal and divine to their knees, even Love had to admit defeat to Death at times.

He wouldn't rip her soul from her body, he wouldn't kill her, Aphrodite knew. But she also knew how dangerous a god's curiosity could be, and Cleo, her little Glory, had stirred Thanatos' curiosity.

And there was nothing Aphrodite could do to protect her because of the Laws, and Aphrodite wanted to snarl.

How she hated those Laws and she knew she wasn't the only one, but Zeus would not be ignored.

Dionysus had ignored his father and was now banished to Camp Half-Blood—and that was only over a nymph.

His new position didn't allow him much leeway for his twin sons that had recently been brought to the Camp, in fact it had made Zeus focus more attention on his young son and soured Dionysus' mood more.

Separated from his wife, unable to favour his own sons, and not allowed to create or drink his alcohol were just the basics of his punishment.

Thanatos didn't have the deal with the same laws when it came to Cleo and that could potentially help her daughter in the long run.

Or it could bring her into his domain before her time, Aphrodite thought grimly.

* * *

Kit had been idly thinking about taking an extended holiday, he thought they both needed it after that scare and it may do Cleo some good, give her new happy memories to replace those that she could no longer remember or remember fully.

It had been a simple idle thought until his little girl appeared for breakfast one day wearing black feather earrings that he knew for certain he didn't buy and sent a chill down his spine when he reached out to touch the surprisingly cool black feathers.

Kit knew with the same certainty that filled him when he first met Aphrodite, that those feathers were a token from a divine.

A God had taken interesting in his little girl, and the thought made his heart and stomach clench in fear because Gods weren't always kind to those that they gave their attention—their 'myths' told him that.

He felt his idle thought solidify into a plan, yes it would be good to get away from the Heart of the West for some time, far from the country the Gods currently had their gazes fixed on.

His mother would love them to visit, he knew, especially considering their very close-call to a trip to the Underworld.


	2. Chapter 2

Kit was startled from his doodling sketch—the side of Cleo's face, her eyes focused on something and her nose wrinkled in thought—as a mug of tea was placed at his elbow before his mother sat across from him with her own mug.

"I don't know why I ever thought you'd be something other than an artist," his mother mused as she glanced between the piece of scrap paper in front of him and where Cleo was sitting against the sofa, casted leg stretched out in front of her with the book resting on her good leg and her casted arm holding it in place, her eyes were focused on the words as her nose wrinkled and she mouthed the words to herself as she followed the words with her finger. "You were always drawing or painting, though I hear that you've delved into sculpting recently."

There was a tone of reproach in his mother's tone and Kit cringed slightly as he once did as a child and teen though he was now a grown man. He knew he hadn't kept in contact as much as his mother would like, especially after Cleo arrived, but he had his reasons.

"Yes," he coughed and Cleo glanced over at him with concerned hazel eyes which made him smile at her until she looked away, assured that he was fine—for now. "I've been using clay, but I've been thinking of trying wood carving in the future."

His mother, Elizabeth, hummed as she took a sip of her tea, green eyes keeping him in place.

"I suppose I should finish cleaning out the garage," she said almost to herself and Kit frowned.

"Why?" he asked in some confusion and his mother's eyebrows raised in mild disbelief, like she couldn't believe he didn't know why.

"To become your studio, of course," she told him and Kit froze. "Though should we call it a workshop? Considering you'll be working with wood now."

"Why do we need to turn your garage into a studio?" Kit asked though he had a feeling he knew the answer and Elizabeth frowned at him like he was being silly.

"Because you're staying of course," Elizabeth replied in a matter-a-fact tone that made a grim smile curl his lips briefly.

Of course, of course she would think he would be staying.

"We're going back to New York," he told her quietly and firmly. "This is just a holiday."

"You let the lease drop on your apartment and placed all your belongings in storage," she frowned at him. "Why else would you do that if you weren't leaving that God awful place?"

"Maybe because I'm taking my daughter on a long holiday and don't see the point of paying for an apartment that will be empty for some odd months," he answered and she scoffed.

"Don't be stupid, Christopher," she told him in an irate tone. "It doesn't suit you. You're not going back, not after what happened with Cleo and that drunk."

"We aren't staying," he repeated. "We have to go back."

"Why? Because of that woman?" she scowled and Kit knew she meant Aphrodite. "She's not coming back, Christopher. She got what she wanted, got more than she wanted, and dumped you with a baby without so much as a warning and left."

"That's not exactly what happened and you know it," Kit scowled back at his mother and she scoffed. "I know she's not coming back for me, I'm not stupid Mother. But we have to go back, Cleo belongs there, needs to be there."

"She'll be fine here," his mother dismissed and Kit was reminded firmly why it had been so long since he had last seen his mother.

She didn't listen, she had never truly listened, and she was one of the reasons he had moved all the way to America to attempt to jump start his career instead of moving to London or somewhere in his birth country.

Why did he think she would listen to him now?

"We're going back to New York," he repeated, firmly as he met the angry stare of his mother. "We're going home."

Her mug clicked sharply as she placed it down to glare at him.

"You'll be staying here and that's final," she spoke like he wasn't an adult, like he wasn't a parent himself, and Kit bristled angrily.

"We're going home," he insisted. "And you can't stop us."

"That place isn't your home!" she snapped as she stood so she towered over him, using height to imitate him—something that stopped imitating him when he became taller than her at age fifteen. "This is your home and you are staying."

He opened his mouth to retort, to again insist that he and Cleo would be returning to New York, when a soft call broke through their argument.

"Daddy?"

His gaze immediately left his mother and turned to his daughter, he was up and moving towards her before he fully registered that Cleo was attempt to get to her feet with her crutch awkwardly.

It was second nature to sweep her up into his arms and perch her carefully on his hip.

"I told you to call me if you wanted to get up," he lightly scolded as he held her securely under her bum while her good arm hooked around his neck.

"You were fighting," she was frowned, almost scowling, before she pierced his mother with fierce and accusing golden eyes. "You were upsetting him."

"Only because he isn't thinking clearly," his mother dismissed and Cleo scowled. "Put her down, Christopher, we're not finished."

"We are," he said firmly and his mother scowled.

"Don't be stupid— "whatever else she was going to say, Kit would never know because Cleo snapped.

"Shut your mouth!" she ordered in a voice filled with command and power and his mother's mouth shut with a loud click making her stumble back with an almost frightened look on her face as she attempt to open her mouth in vain. "He's not stupid!"

Kit didn't know if he should laugh or groan, but he knew he had to get out before the power of Cleo's voice wore off and his mother regained control of her mouth.

It seemed their visit to his mother's was at its end, perhaps for good.

Quickly he swept from the room, his grip firm on his irritated daughter, and headed swiftly to their room to pack their belongings.

They needed to go, Kit knew that, even if the Mist made his mother forget exactly what Cleo did, he couldn't forget, and he also knew the Mist would still make it impossible for them to stay.

Of all the times for one of her mother's gifts to show up, he despaired to himself as he plopped her on the bed before reaching for the open bed on the floor.

Luckily they hadn't really unpacked and it was rather easy for Kit to collect and pack all their things quickly before packing their rental car and they were gone before his mother could do anything more than glare.

* * *

 **I did something wrong.**

 _How dare she call Dad stupid!_

 **I shouldn't have done that.**

 _I should have done more; I don't like that bitch._

 **What did I do?**

* * *

Kit bit back a sigh when he glanced over at his daughter's grimacing face, he knew he had to address what she had done but was at a lost to how.

Aphrodite had made sure to show him the horror of the world that faced their daughter, but said nothing on how Kit was meant to raise Cleo or the stand he should take on her godly-given powers.

"Cleo," he trailed off as her dark hazel eyes locked onto the side of his face.

"I did something wrong, didn't I?" she asked in such a downtrodden tone that Kit almost wanted to reassure her that she hadn't done anything wrong.

But he couldn't do that, it would send the wrong message. But what message should he send? That it wasn't alright to ever use the gift her mother's blood gave her? But he couldn't allow her to think she was able to use it whenever and however she liked, could he? This power, this Charm-speak, could so easily be abused if he didn't draw a line that Cleo shouldn't cross.

"Yes," he said slowly, "but also no."

He glanced over at his daughter and saw the confusion on her face. Great, how was he meant to explain?

"You were defending me," he began. "Defending someone you love should never be wrong," –but it could be, but he wasn't telling her that now, she was still young enough that she didn't need to know that— "but the way you defended me could be considered wrong."

Cleo frowned and he wanted to shift under her gaze.

"But I only told her to shut up," she said in confusion and Kit winced as yeah, that's all she did and it shouldn't be wrong to tell someone to shut-up when they said mean things, but not all people had Cleo's ability.

"It wasn't what you said," Kit said. "It's how you said it."

And the confusion deepened; he really wasn't making sense, was he?

"Cleo," he sighed. "Your mum had a gift, she could make people do things by saying things in a certain way. She got this tone, this power to her voice, and people would do what she wanted even if they didn't want to do it.

You have this gift, Cleo, and you have to be careful with how you say things, what you say, because it's wrong—bad even—to make people do things that they don't want to."

There, that was good, wasn't? That made sense.

And then of course his six-year-old proved him wrong just a moment later.

"Then why do you make me eat my vegetables?" she asked very seriously and he almost gaped at her, only the fact he was still driving stopped him. "Because I don't want to, but you make me."

"That's different," he said after a moment of silence.

"Why?"

"Because vegetables are good for you, you need your vegetables."

"Why?"

"They help you grow and stuff, keep you healthy."

"But I don't like them."

"No one really likes them."

"Then why do you make me eat them?"

"I already told you, to keep you healthy and help you grow."

* * *

Despite her question, Cleo understood what her Daddy was attempting to tell her. The thing was though, she was torn about what to do. It was best to distract him while she worked it out part of her whispered and she agreed.

 _I need to learn how to use this power, to control it._

 **But Daddy said it's wrong.**

 _Could be wrong, he said it could be wrong. I need to learn to how to use this._

 **Daddy won't be happy.**

 _Dad doesn't have to find out._

 **I can't lie to him.**

 _I'll just avoid talking about it, I could use it to protect Dad. I have to learn this, to control this._

… **Yes, I have to protect Daddy.**

 _ **I'll protect him,**_ both sides of her were in agreement once again.

* * *

It was decided that they would have a road-trip of Europe, starting in France after taking the ferry across the Channel. Kit had been convinced it was a good idea until he was holding the miserable form of his sea-sick daughter.

She only cheered up slightly when he bought her a rather large stuffed dog that she curled around for the rest of the journey.

* * *

Kit wasn't blind or ignorant to the changes in his daughter, but most could be written off as after-effects of the car-crash or her being a child.

The distance look in her eyes and the thoughtful frown that sometimes appeared? Effects from her head injury obviously, possibly related to her memories.

Her more quiet nature? Result from the trauma most likely. It wasn't like she was depressed or suddenly anti-social, she just preferred being quiet now which was fine and she still enjoyed talking with him.

Her almost protective actions towards him? Also a result from the trauma as they both almost lost each other. Perhaps he should be concerned of the hint of temper. The anger that made her use her 'charm-speak' for the first time against his mother. However, she didn't act out or throw fits of temper so he wasn't that worried, but he would keep an eye on it.

Her sudden fear of deep water which made her stay in the shallows of the sea whenever they went to a beach? (her cast leg wrapped carefully in plastic while her cast arm kept close to her chest) It was normal for children to have weird fears, wasn't it? And it made sense she didn't like it much as they had recently found out that she got terribly sea-sick when they took the ferry across the channel the first time.

Other things, some he could still write off like;

Her leap of reading skill? Well, she had been reading more as having both a broken leg and an arm stopped her from doing other things like running around and such. It would only help her in the long-run when it came to her returning to school.

Her startling grasp of the French language? Didn't Aphrodite say that French was the language of love? It was probably a child of Aphrodite thing.

Or at least that's what he thought until they went to Spain, Italy and Germany later on and Cleo showed the same startling grasp of those languages.

Kit knew something was off with his daughter, knew it deep in his bones, but Kit decided he didn't care because she was Cleo, she was still his little girl, and nothing would change that.

* * *

Disneyland, Cleo decided, was the best place in the whole world and nothing, and no one, would change her mind.

The only thing that dampened her happiness was the fact that she couldn't buy all the cuddly soft-toys that she wanted.

Kit bit back a laugh as he watched Cleo frown thoughtfully as she judged the soft-toys around her, weighing up which she preferred the most.

It was times like this that showed Kit that though Cleo had changed, she was still his little girl.

* * *

She was an interesting little thing, Thanatos mused as he observed his new interest—perhaps he should claim her as his Champion? If only to keep the other Gods at bay, he'd have to think on it.

All wide eyes and chocolate locks hiding the warring mind of an old warrior and a young child.

Aphrodite had done her best, yes, but unused and there for unskilled in sealing everything.

Thanatos found he didn't mind, it made this one, Cleo, more interesting as warrior and child clashed or agreed, it was more interesting seeing the bits of warrior bleed into the child so Thanatos wouldn't fix it.

His sisters had not stirred themselves to correct Aphrodite's attempt so Thanatos decided that they wanted things this way.

Though for what reason Thanatos didn't know, and truthfully? He didn't desire to know; he'd find out soon enough after all.

Though Thanatos did know one thing, it had something to do with a demigod child called Percy Jackson. Why else would he be the first demigod that Cleo ran into and befriend when she returned to America?

The whole trip to Montauk was set-up by the Fates though Thanatos could see the hand of Aphrodite in the connection between Kit Agate and Sally Jackson.

Cleo did make things more interesting, he almost smiled as he watched.

* * *

 **AN: Here is the first two chapters, I hope you like it. Some of you that read my When In Thedas have been asking about my Harry Potter story and are confused because they thought Harry Potter was going to be next, my Harry Potter was originally meant to be next but I decided to go for my Percy Jackson story instead as this Muse hasn't fled.**

 **My Harry Potter story will be after this one, so please be patient as at the moment I'm working things out with the help of .**

 **I hope you enjoy this story as you have the ones before.**


	3. Chapter 3

In Percy Jackson's opinion, there was no place better than Montauk—even if the sea was always cold and there were always spiders in their cabin.

It was his favourite place in the whole world. It was their place, his and his mom's place, and they had been coming here as long as Percy could remember.

This visit felt the best as they were far away from his mom's new friend, Smelly Gabe. He wasn't allowed to come to Montauk, it was _their_ place after all.

But for some reason, there were other people at their place, strangers, a father and his daughter— his mom had only laughed at him when he complained about them and reminded him that the beach was for everyone—who were staying in the cabin beside them.

Percy chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the daughter as she bent down to collect another seashell. He knew that she would look at it for a while before either dropping it back to the sand or adding it to her collect of shells in her purple bucket.

This time was different.

"Why are you following me?" she scowled at him, her bucket next to her feet as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're on my beach!" he exclaimed before he could really think and she shot him a look before making a show of glancing around.

"I don't see your name on it," she smirked smugly at him.

"It does!" he snapped and she raised her dark brows at him.

"Where?" she asked and he snatched up a stick from the sand and turned to write his name before he paused and bit his lip. "Do you even know how to write your name?"

"I'm not stupid!" Percy shouted, tired of hearing that from all the other kids at school.

They always picked on him, always laughed at him when the teachers corrected him, they always called him stupid and he hated it!

She stared at him, hazel eyes bright, and an almost thoughtful look on her face before she nodded to herself and marched over to him after picking up her own stick.

"So what's your name?" she asked and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Why?"

"Don't you want your name on your beach?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Percy, I'm Percy," he answered after a moment and she smiled at him, a lopsided smile that was higher on her right and showed off a dimple in her cheek.

"I'm Cleo," she said in returned before looking back at the sand and began to write with her stick. "You write your name like this."

"Like this?" he attempted to copy before they both frowned at his shaky attempt next to hers—somehow the P was the wrong way round and all the letters were different sizes.

"Try again?" she asked and he nodded, he wouldn't stop until his looked like Cleo's. "Okay, watch closely."

* * *

Sally watched from a small distance away from the children, her book that she had been pretending to read discarded on the towel beside her, with a hint of relief.

She had been worried for a moment, worried for Percy, but it seemed she didn't have to be which was a relief. Perhaps Percy would finally have a friend?

Poseidon had told her that Percy's life would be hard, that it would even be dangerous especially considering Sally wanted to keep him close, but he had been speaking of monsters and the Gods, not about other children.

Percy was different and the other children knew it, they knew it was on a deeper level than his obvious differences—his ADHD and his dyslexia—but those were the only ones they teased him about, calling him stupid more often than not until he would get so upset he cried or something exploded—though that thankfully that had only happened the once.

He was only five—almost six, he always reminded her—and Sally already had to move him to a different school when the teasing upset him so much that the plumbing in the nearby toilets exploded. It was written off as faulty plumbing, but Sally wasn't taking any chances—what if one of the teachers was a monster? What if they figured it out it had been Percy? He already used his powers, did that mean they would be able to sense or smell him now?

Sally wasn't sure, it was that uncertainty that led her to Gabriel—surely his smell would mask Percy's? Surely she wouldn't have to send her son away? —and made her determined to make a relationship between them work.

It was for Percy, she reminded herself when Gabriel said something cruel to her or about Percy, when she thought about leaving. Sally would do anything for Percy even stay with a man that she was certain would begin hitting her sooner or later—as long as he didn't lay a hand on Percy, Sally would stay.

"It seems they've made friends," a male voice said and startled her from her thoughts.

Sally glanced up with a blush, uncertain how long he had been standing beside her, and met laughing dark green hazel eyes.

"It seems so," she agreed after glancing at where the children were busy writing in the sand.

"I'm glad," the man told her, his gaze fixed on his daughter. "Cleo doesn't get on with others often, too different I guess."

"Percy doesn't either," she added before he suddenly crouched down beside her and held out one tanned hand.

"I'm Kit," he smiled at her and she smiled back as she took his hand and replied, "I'm Sally."

* * *

Aphrodite smirked as she watched Kit and Sally talk through her mirror, her magic already drawing them together.

Poseidon may not be happy, but Sally deserved better than that disgusting mortal and Kit would love Percy as if he was his own, they also both deserved a loving relationship where they could be honest with each other. Really, Poseidon shouldn't be able to complain.

Though he probably would anyway, or at least attempt to threaten her to keep her silence on the matter of Percy.

Honestly, Aphrodite didn't know how he could fool himself into thinking that no one knew about Percy.

Aphrodite was always aware of the affairs her fellow Gods and Goddess had with mortals and she knew for a fact that Apollo was aware of all of the possible children of the Great Prophecy—all four of them even if it was harder for him to keep an eye on the Di Angelo siblings with them hidden amongst the Lotus Eaters.

Ares was also aware of the possibility of Percy, he was always aware of the possible causes of war, and Hermes almost always knew the other Gods secrets as he flittered around as Messenger of the Gods.

And then there was Hera and Hestia, Hera would be aware of Poseidon once again breaking his vows to his wife as the Goddess of Marriage while Hestia always knew when another demigod joined the family.

All of them had their own reasons to keep their silence; Hestia to protect Percy and keep the peace amongst the family, Hera to spite Zeus who dared to sire two children with one mortal, Ares to make the fallout more explosive, Apollo because of him being a possible Prophecy child and Hermes always kept the secrets close to his chest.

And Aphrodite's reasons? Well, those were hers alone.

* * *

"Come on," Percy whined as he tugged Cleo's arm though the older girl stayed on moving. "It'll be fun."

"Until we drown," Cleo deadpanned as she glared at the gently lapping sea.

"We don't have to go far," he told her, staring up at her wide sea green eyes.

"There could be jellyfish," she pointed out. "I don't like jellyfish, they sting."

"What does a jellyfish look like?" Percy asked as he stopped tugging at her making her frown.

"Jelly like," she said after a while. "And they have loads of stringy things that sting you."

"I've never seen them," he said after glancing at the sea.

"Sometimes you don't until they sting you," she told him darkly making him glance at her.

"Did you get stung by a jellyfish?" he asked and Cleo scowled as she nodded. "Did it hurt?"

"Yes," Cleo bit out as she glared at the sea.

"I don't think Montauk has jellyfish," he offered after a moment. "We won't go far and you can find the best shells, please?"

She glanced at him before she bit her lip and glanced away.

"No higher than my ankles," she decided after a moment making Percy cheer before he pulled her along happily. "I said no higher than my ankles!"

* * *

Kit laughed as he watched Percy pull Cleo splashing into the sea, pausing in his sketching of them as he did.

"She's afraid of water?" Sally asked making him glance at her, catching her sea blue eyes with his green hazel ones.

"Kind of," he shrugged at her. "It's a new thing really, hopefully Percy will help her get over it."

"Percy loves the water," Sally told him with an almost wistful look on her face. "He gets that from his father."

"Cleo has her mother's eyes," he offered in return. "Hers could never settle on a colour either."

Sally hesitated as she glanced between Kit and Cleo. She couldn't say she wasn't curious about Cleo's mother, but she understood how other people asking could be as she had dealt with it herself.

Kit smiled at her, a smile just slightly lopsided in a way that reminded Sally of his daughter the first day that Percy had dragged her over with a proud look on his face as he claimed Cleo as his friend and she had smiled at her.

"It's okay to ask," he told her before glancing back at his daughter, watching as she grudgingly stayed in almost knee-high water as Percy pointed out shells below them. "Cleo's mum, we weren't together that long and we both knew it wasn't going to last forever anyway. It doesn't matter really, I have Cleo and I couldn't be happier."

"I was like that with me and Percy's father," Sally offered after a moment. "Percy already looks so much like him."

"I guess I'm lucky that Cleo looks more like me," Kit mused making Sally glance at him. "It would be harder to let go of our old relationship if she looked just like her."

"Yes, it is," Sally said quietly.

It was hard to forget Poseidon or at least put him in the past when Percy looked so much like him, but Sally knew she had to—their romance had been doomed from the start and they had known it.

Sally was moving on though, she just wished it wasn't with Gabriel. She could see her moving on with Kit, being happy with him, and she knew he would understand some of the hardship she went through as a single-parent even if he couldn't understand being a parent of a demigod, but she could not do that.

Not to him, not to Cleo, it would put them in danger and though she wasn't happy with Gabriel—doubted she would ever be happy with him—she knew he's scent would protect her son and that was enough for her.

It had to be.

* * *

Percy decided that Cleo was his best friend—never mind his first friend—despite the fact she was older by almost two years and was a girl.

She would race him from one end of the beach to the other, she didn't mind wrestling with him in sand and she helped him make sandcastles. She didn't wear skirts or dresses, but shorts and t-shirts which made it easier to play.

She didn't like the sea—which he didn't understand—but she still came in the water with him as long as they didn't go far, she was helping him with his writing though they almost always ended doodling in the sand after a while.

Her dad, Kit, was really cool and drew really nice pictures, and Kit got on with his mom. And he didn't smell like Smelly Gabe did or make nasty comments when his mom was busy.

Kit roasted marshmallows and sausages over the fire in the evening, and then he and his mom would tell them stories before they went to bed.

It was the best trip ever and Percy didn't want it to end, didn't want to go back and deal with Smelly Gabe coming around. He wanted to stay here, at Montauk, with his mom, Cleo and Kit.


	4. Chapter 4

Running was something that Cleo liked doing, especially after spending weeks being almost unable to walk, and it was something that Cleo thought she was good at without almost constant practice—not like her drawing which something she has to spend on daily if she wanted to be anywhere near as brilliant as her Daddy.

Cleo could run, run fast and long without much effort, and she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the burn of her muscles, she enjoyed the sharp breathing she dealt with when she pushed too far, she enjoyed the easy motions that were easy to lose herself in as it meant she didn't have to think, to wonder, to push to remember.

She shouldn't push, the doctors told her, but she couldn't help it.

 _I have to remember, its important._

 **I don't know if I want to remember.**

 _I will remember, I always remember._

Cleo huffed and turned her mind firmly to the easy movements of her legs as she ran along the beach in the dawn light and under the protective gaze of her father.

* * *

Percy frowned as he watched Cleo inspect another small shell before she put in her bucket.

"Why are you collecting shells?" Percy asked.

"Maybe because they are pretty," Cleo shrugged making Percy scowl which just made her smile when she looked up at him. "I want to make bracelets and necklaces out of some, others I just want to keep because they are pretty."

"Bracelets and necklaces?" Percy repeated making Cleo nod.

"Yeah, one for me, one for you, one for Daddy and one for Sally," Cleo told him making Percy blink.

"But boys aren't allowed to were bracelets and necklaces," Percy said in slight confusion making Cleo scowl.

"Whoever told you that is lying," Cleo told him firmly. "People can wear whatever they want and there is nothing wrong with that."

"Oh," Percy ducked his head, he should have known that Gabe was lying.

"Come on," Cleo grabbed his hand as she began to drag him towards their parents, her bucket held tightly. "We'll make yours first."

And that was how they spent the rest of the afternoon with their parents help, making jewellery and even hairclips for Cleo.

* * *

Percy beamed as he sat back and Cleo carefully reached up to touch the shell-flower hairclip that Percy had placed lopsided in her hair.

"How does it look?" she asked after a moment making Percy grin widely.

"Awesome," he told her seriously and Cleo only smiled, of course he would think that as she was wearing his hairclip.

"My turn," she declared as she reached for his left hand and grabbed the adjustable shell bracelet that she had made for him and carefully slipped it over his hand and tighten it around his wrist.

Kit hid his smile behind his mug of tea as both he and Sally watched over their children adorning themselves with shell-jewellery and such.

"Do you always carry around a drill?" Sally asked almost dryly before she took a sip from her own mug.

"It's a new thing," Kit told her with a hint of a grin. "Cleo started getting interesting in shell jewellery when we were in Spain, I think? Anyway she wanted to make her own, so I stocked up on everything we would need which included a drill."

"You've been to Spain?" Sally asked in interest, a slight wistful smile curving her lips.

"We've just come back from a European trip," Kit admitted, almost sheepishly.

He had noticed that Sally wasn't as well-off as he was, he also suspected he'd be in the same way if Aphrodite hadn't helped him kick-start his career.

"That must have been nice," Sally still had that small wistful smile. "What was the occasion?"

Kit couldn't stop the frown as he kept an eye on Cleo, still feeling the overwhelming relief that she was still here, that she was alive, uncoil in his chest.

"Over a year ago," he began quietly. "We were in a car-accident, Cleo hurt her head."

"I'm sorry," Sally said as she wrapped a hand around one of his. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"It's okay," Kit took a deep breath. "Cleo's okay now, I just wanted to give her something good to remember."

* * *

Cleo liked Percy even though he liked the sea too much for her comfort, and had the worse habit of flashing her his sad sea-green eyes which made her crumble and do what he wanted—which was usually playing in the sea.

He had become important to her in the two weeks they had spent at Montauk, but she also felt he was also _important_. She didn't know why she felt that, she just did and it made her want to protect him.

That feeling, instinct, grew as he talked about Smelly Gabe and it made Cleo want to turn to Sally and demand— _force_ —her to leave him because he wasn't nice to Percy, he wasn't nice to her, why was she staying with him? _He'll hurt Percy, he'll hurt him and Sally won't see, why?_

But she didn't, couldn't, because Daddy was always with Sally—talking, laughing, showing her his art and sometimes sketching her—and he would know that Cleo was using her ability in a way that he told her was bad.

So Cleo kept her silence, held her tongue and pushed down the power she could feel rising in her throat when she talked to Sally. It would have been so easy, just one sentence, but Cleo couldn't do that, could not disappoint and upset Daddy, and she liked Sally, she just wished the older woman realised what a bad man Gabe was.

* * *

Fish loved Percy, that was a fact that Cleo couldn't deny.

Tiny little fish would wine around his legs as they played in the shallows, nibbling at his toes and acting like tiny little dogs which made Percy giggle and play with them.

Percy loved fish, that was another fact that Cleo couldn't deny, as he babbled on about them to her.

Fish did not like Cleo attempting to catch them, they also apparently screamed when she got out her toy fishing-rod—which just made Percy almost cry.

Fish were troublesome, Cleo decided as she threw her toy towards the beach so they would stop screaming and upsetting Percy.

"It wasn't even real," Cleo muttered as she watched Percy soothe the little fish cowering behind his legs.

Cleo decided that Percy was never allowed to go fishing with her, he'd just cry and want to put them all back while whispering apologies and patting them.

Cleo supposed it was a good thing that she didn't like fishing that much.

* * *

It looked like her son had turned into a limpet and Cleo was his rock. He held her hand, he hugged her tightly, or just tugged on her t-shirt and it was getting worse the closer it came to the end of their trip.

Cleo hadn't said against him, had simply allowed Percy to have his way with a resigned look on her face which Kit found amusing.

Sally didn't find it amusing because she knew they had to go home soon and Percy would just be more upset, and Sally almost winced at the thought of her plumbing exploding—she couldn't afford that on a shop-clerks salary—and at the thought of what Gabe would say when he saw how upset Percy was which would only make it worse.

"You do know this doesn't have to be goodbye?" Kit asker her quietly as Percy dozed off against Cleo's shoulder across the fire from them. "We both live in New York, don't we?"

Sally felt stupid for not considering it before and a large amount of relief welled up inside her and caused her shoulders to slump.

"Yes, we do," Sally smiled at him making Kit smile back.

* * *

Kit didn't know if he should be surprised or suspicious that their apartment, the penthouse that he had been so proud of getting, was left exactly as they left it and hadn't been leased to another family.

He was leaning on being more suspicious than anything considering that his landlord believed Kit had requested the apartment to be saved for them.

Add that their old furniture and boxes had already taken out of storage and stacked around the apartment just waiting to be unpacked and placed back into their own places—and that was just their old stuff as the things they bought during their holiday hadn't been shipped yet which was another headache that Kit would have to deal with—it was almost creepy and Kit could only hope that it was Aphrodite that had decided to involve herself.

"My unicorns are still here!" Cleo's almost joyous shout made him change his mind.

He decided to be happy that he wouldn't have to go searching for another apartment and get used to a new one. And of course, Cleo was happy so that's all that matter to him.

Even if he wanted to know which God decided to interfere and keep their apartment ready and why.

Wasn't it enough that a Goddess had birthed her and another God marked her?

He really hoped that Aphrodite decided to be kind to them.

* * *

 **AN: Short, but I had trouble writing this out. It sucks when you know what you want to happen, but have a block on how to write it out. I hope you like it though.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

The lilac walls were familiar with its boarder of silver wonky unicorns, the gauzy purple and silver curtains hung across the window and the deep purple of blankets and comforters on her bed makes something in her relax and know she's home.

It is a child's room, some part of her recognised, and though Cleo had times when she didn't feel like a child—when she felt so old for no reason—it was her room and it was comforting.

Glass vases filled with her seashells were placed on her dresser that also littered with snow-globes and figurines of famous monuments around Europe and a large shell covered box that housed her jewellery—most being handmade.

A bookcase was pressed tight against the wall and she had already done her best to fill as much as possible, one shelf was a collection of small golden brown bears wearing t-shirts with only the flags or the city on it to truly tell them apart as they were the same generalised bear you'd find in any tourist gift-shop around the world, they hadn't been bought to cuddle like the rest of her soft-toys but to show where she had been. They were cramped together so they'd all fit on the same shelf as the other shelves were filled with books and a few picture frames with space left open for more books and things.

Her soft toys—comforting, childish, cuddly—were already scattered in various places across the room with only her lilac unicorn—who inspired her into changing her room to match her—called Lavender and her large dog—the same dog that her father brought over the ferry and had travelled faithfully with her across Europe—called Maisy was on her bed.

It was the first room in the apartment that Kit and Cleo had unpacked properly and Cleo felt thankful for that as she snuggled under her covers.

* * *

Sally's grip on Percy's hand tightened as she stared up at the apartment building that the Agates lived in.

Sally had known that Kit was well-off, very well-off for an artist as it was temperamental business to be in. After all, hadn't the Agates just get back from a year long trip around Europe?

Still knowing that was different to being confronted with the reality of it in a way that Sally couldn't ignore or put to the back of her mind.

The building was nice, well taken care of and modern, very different from Sally's apartment building that was older and well-worn.

It made Sally feel out of place in her worn jeans and washed-out t-shirt as she watched one smartly dressed woman come strolling out of the glass doors with a mobile—a smaller mobile than the chucky flip phone that Sally had tucked away in her bedside table with its battery dead—pressed close to her ear that shot her one disinterested glance before walking briskly away with her leather handbag hanging from her free arm.

"Mom?" Percy frowned up at her as he tugged at her hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Sally smiled weakly, she hadn't felt this out of place nor embarrassed in a long time—was it after she dropped out of High School for her uncle and meet up with her 'friends' who only talked about school gossip and complaining about all the things they were learning when Sally couldn't because her uncle was dying? Or was it when she was pregnant with Percy and the nurses pointedly asked for her boyfriend or husband? "Let's go."

She hadn't bowed her head in shame then and she wouldn't now. Kit was her friend, Cleo was Percy's friend, there was nothing embarrassing about going to a friend's home for a playdate and there was nothing embarrasing about her clothes, they were perfectly acceptable for a playdate.

* * *

It was Percy that knocked on the Agate's door at the very top of the building with only one other apartment across from them.

"Coming!" Cleo's voice echoed from behind the door before it was pulled up by the eight-year-old and Percy lunged. "Percy!"

Sally smiled as Cleo fell back with a solid thump as her son clung to her happily though she keenly watched the young girl to make sure Percy hadn't accidentally hurt Cleo.

Her son was a demigod after all and wasn't always aware of his own strength, especially when it came to playing with other children—mortal children were more fragile after all—as he wasn't used to playing with them. Thankfully no accidents had happened yet and it seemed Cleo hadn't even hit her head.

"I see you missed each other," Kit's wry voice made Sally look up and notice the man standing a few feet away from the tangle of children as he wiped his hands on a dish-towel. "Why don't you take him to your room, Cleo?"

Cleo pushed Percy off and rolled to her feet in one smooth move, snagging Percy's hand as she did, and dragged the younger boy after her.

"I hope Percy doesn't mind purple," Kit said as he waved Sally in making her raise her eyebrows in question. "Cleo's room."

"With Cleo around? Even if the room was pink, I still think he would be happy," Sally told him. "Percy's favourite colour is blue."

"Blue, a solid and single colour," Kit nodded his head almost sagely as he walked her to the kitchen where he was still cleaning up from breakfast. "Cleo doesn't have a single favourite colour, apparently it's impossible to only have one favourite."

Sally smiled, amused, she could see Cleo saying that with her face in a small scowl as she looked up at her father.

* * *

Thanatos watched as Cleo bonded closely with Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, before glancing at their mortal parents and seeing Aphrodite at work, slowly tying them together.

Thanatos frowned, slightly troubled.

No doubt Aphrodite had her reasons for the couple, but her interfering put Cleo in danger—well more danger than she was already in—and he couldn't allow that.

Cleo already had an unusually strong scent for a child of Aphrodite—an aftereffect of Aphrodite claiming her soul and body—and though it was masked somewhat by the feathers Cleo wore constantly in her ears—his feathers, feathers that proclaimed her as his in a different way to Aphrodite's claim but just a binding—it wouldn't work as well with the strength of Percy's scent added to hers.

He would need to do something or Cleo—and Percy, he supposed—could end up hurt or dead by monsters before the Camp became aware of them and the Satyrs brought them to safety.

He had time though, Sally Jackson had yet to leave the disgusting mortal and his scent still covered Percy's well enough for now. But sooner or later, Sally Jackson would leave him as no mortal—and even few gods—could resist Aphrodite's will.

* * *

 **AN: Sorry it's so short, unfortunately I'm really struggling getting my ideas and thoughts down as I'm dealing with writer's block and depression. However, I'm still working on this whenever I feel up to it and can get my brain to work properly, I won't be getting chapters out quickly with this one so I hope you can be patient.**

 **I'm hopeful it will pick up when it comes closer to the canon timeline.**


	6. AN, Sorry

**You've already probably guessed that I'm having trouble with this fic, something that is frustrating as I know where I want to go with this fic and yet can't write it because of writer's block which is annoying.**

 **So I'm going to put this on hold, haitus, whatever, and I'm sorry for disappointing you but I really can't seem to write anything out when it comes to this fic. Something that is, again, annoying as I thought I had really good ideas for it.**

 **So again, I'm sorry, but this doesn't mean I've stopped writing. It just means I've stopped writing this story and this series.**


End file.
